16 January 2016

This story has been playing inside my head for a few days now and for reasons I cannot explain, as though it was willing me to write it.

Whatever conclusions you may come to after reading this, I swear to God that this is a true story. Obviously, out of respect to the personalities involved, I shall not be mentioning any names.

Years back, there were these inauguration ceremonies that were being held in this organisation. See? I do not even say what type of organisation it is.

Wink!

The person assigned to organise the event naturally turned to that very same person’s protégé to act as master of ceremonies. See? I do not even specify the gender.

Wink!

Why the person opted for the protégé, only the person can explain. God knows there were other more experienced people in the organisation for occasions like this.

The master of ceremonies was visibly nervous as the proceedings started, poor person! The occasion, after all, was being attended by local dignitaries and other very important persons to the organisation.

Despite the nerves, whatever boo-boos the master of ceremonies committed were minor. In fact, the master of ceremonies did reasonably well.

Until the very end, that is…

The master of ceremonies was told to individually recognise and thank the VIPs among the guests. Handed a list of these VIPs, the person started to make the acknowledgments.

Thank you to Mr. and Mrs. This…

Our appreciation to Mr. and Mrs. That…

It was all so mundane that I was, to be perfectly honest, barely paying attention.

All of a sudden, the person sitting next to me, the sort who is always looking for something to make fun of, burst out laughing. Many of you who know me will correctly guess the identity of this person.

“What?!” I asked.

The master of ceremonies, he was still laughing, just thanked Archbishop and Mrs. This…

I do not recall that the Archbishop was himself present, but if he was, he must have been horrified to learn that a fellow Prince of the Church was partaking of the forbidden fruit.

But of course, we all knew who “This” was; and even as muted laughter from among the audience started to die down, somebody quietly stepped up behind the master of ceremonies to whisper the correction.

Apologies, it is Architect and Mrs. This…

The nerves probably just caught up with the master of ceremonies, poor thing. The person certainly knew who “This” was as did everyone else in the organisation; so it was probably just the excitement generated by the occasion that caused the epic fail.

Unlike Steve Harvey, though, the master of ceremonies was reading from something!

The person sitting next to me was quick to theorise. The name written on the paper the master of ceremonies was given probably read: Arch. and Mrs. This…

And the master of ceremonies just assumed the abbreviation meant Archbishop, what else could it be? Poor thing… Nerves can do that to you.